


All I Have to Give This World Is Me

by BlaiddDrwg1982



Series: This is the Soundtrack of Our Life [42]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But they get better, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Destiel - Freeform, Except it's karaoke, M/M, Song fic, Sort Of, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, That Damn Radio, The Host is sick of it, Timey-Wimey, some people are dead, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 11:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddDrwg1982/pseuds/BlaiddDrwg1982
Summary: When one suffers a loss, it's easy to give in to the need for revenge. Decisions get made and an eye for an eye makes the entire world blind. But what if you could fix it? How would you get to that point. Could you?





	All I Have to Give This World Is Me

**Author's Note:**

> Song: All I Have to Give This World is Me  
Artists: Tegan and Sara
> 
> I own nothing from Teen Wolf, nor Supernatural. Just borrowing them. Don't sue.

Sitting on the stage, a strange being looked out into the crowd that was milling about. No-one in any particular hurry to get from this place to the next. It wouldn’t matter if they did or not. This small slice of time always returned you when and where you needed to be, regardless of how long you were away. The proprietor, who was presently on the stage, prided their self on the fact that to date there’d been no violence done to the residents in the bar, despite it being a rather mixed bag of guests. Of course, the fact the bar had only been open for one day helped with boasting the claim.

Open one day. The same day. For over 5000 years. 

The purpose was somewhat hard to put your finger on, but it served as a refuge of sorts. People were drawn to it when they needed a break from things, but on occasion it would call people to it who needed…something.

“A Hunter and a Demon enter the bar…or would that be a Hunter and a Hunter Demon enter the bar…”

The host looked towards the entrances. One to the left. One to the right. The both opened at the same time. From the right, a broad shouldered man standing just over six feet tall with piercing green eyes, and a chip on his shoulder the size of west Texas. Through the left, a man, not nearly as broad shouldered entered with the haunted look of someone ready to snap and kill at a moment’s notice if someone so much as looked at him the wrong way.

Looking across the bar, the two men saw each other. Eyes narrowing, lips curling back in the approximation of a snarl, they strode purposefully towards each other, the energy around them crackled with barely restrained hostility.

“You fucking son of a bitch.”

As they neared each other, the found their previous rage dialled back, as though by magic. In all likelihood, that’s what it was.

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Though obviously it’s because I haven’t caught up with you yet.”

“You’re not exactly hiding yourself Dean.”

“And you aren’t as smart as you think you are. You or…that…thing…that wears your face.”

Stiles draws his arm back as though to hit the older Hunter, but finds the momentum to be arrested. Dropping is arm, his glare was fixed on the older man.

From the stage, the Host slid off their stool, and nodded to the stagehands to start setting things up. Hopping off the stage, they made their way over to Dean and Stiles, who were somehow being ignored by the collective beings milling about with their drinks.

“Gentlemen. I see you’ve made each other’s acquaintance.”

Stiles nodded, not breaking eye contact.

“You could say that. This bastard killed my husband.”

Dean snapped, “He was a werewolf.”

“He wasn’t hurting anybody!”

“He’s still a monster.”

“Like your friend Garth?”

An uneasy silence filled the space between them.

“You killed Cas.”

Stiles barked a laugh and shook his head.

“You took the man I love from me. Only fair to return the favour.”

Stiles smiled broadly, an after image of silver fangs overlaid itself over his teeth. Dean felt himself puff up his chest to respond, but the Host stepped more firmly between them. A rather unamused expression crossed their face followed by a small grin.

“Don’t you think things would have been better if you two worked together?”

Stiles snorted.

“Tried that. Didn’t work.”

Dean scoffed.

“That ship has long sailed, and if you drop whatever voodoo you’ve got running in this place, I’ll make sure to send him off with it.”

The Host rolled their eyes and shook their head.

“We have been open for only a day. You’ll not be the first death in this premises if I have anything to say about it.”

As the Host snapped their fingers, Stiles and Dean felt the frisson of magic pass through them. The crowd collectively shivered slightly with anticipation. Looking down at themselves, Dean and Stiles found themselves on the stage, lights blinding them, but they were able to see each other fine.

“What would Castiel or Derek say if they could see you now. What would you say to them?”

Sitting back in a chair, the Host steepled their fingers and nodded as though granting them permission to do…whatever.

Dean looked across at Stiles, and closed his eyes to collect himself. 

Taking a breath, he found himself unable to resist the spell that was coaxing out what he’d long since hidden. He sang.

_Faced myself in the mirror last night_  
_I looked for things you said you liked_  
_The person I am when no one's around_  
_The one, I don't want to be found_

Stiles sneered somewhat derisively as he replied in kind.

_Don't you ever wanna change?_  
_Don't you ever wanna change?_

Though looking down at his own hands, remembering the feeling Derek’s blood on his hands, and the choice he made then and there. Vengeance. The only way he knew how.

_Talked myself outta being me_  
_Didn't wanna fight my own worst enemy_  
_Wipe me out, did it all from view_  
_Destroyed myself_

Stiles stared directly into Dean’s eyes.

_Became more like you_

Dean and Stiles’ voices joined up and sounded somewhat ethereal, even with Dean’s much huskier voice.

_No one's very real today_  
_No one's very real today_

Dean glared at the Host continued.

_All I have to give this world is me, that's it_  
_All I have to show this world is me, that's it_  
_Just me, just me, just me_

Stiles smirked, and replied.

_That's it_

Stiles looked up to the ceiling, imagining his werewolf of a husband was still there. 

_Convinced myself not to be so strange_  
_I hope I still take your breath away_

Dean looked down at the ground, rumbling out.

_I look in the mirror, I see your face_  
_The one who worries it can't change_

Dean and Stiles looked at each other, and for a moment saw in each other’s eyes the loss the other had suffered at the other’s hands. In a voice that could almost be mistaken for kindness, they sang.

_You don't have to change, you don't have to change_  
_You don't have to change_

_All I have to give this world is me, that's it_  
_All I have to show this world is me, that's it_  
_Just me, just me, just me_  
_That's it_

The music dropped to a low instrumental, as though serving as a place holder. The pair looked at each other from across the stage, looking somewhat more civil, if not a bit sympathetic. They were both puzzled over the fact they couldn’t resist the magic that was compelling them to sing. At least, they would both agree, it wasn’t something from the 80’s with bad synth.

_Staring down my two halves in the glass_  
_Feels like a heart attack_  
_Telling me to choose one or the other_  
_I get so panicked_

Dean picked at his fingernails all but growling the next lines as though they were being dragged from him almost against his will.

_I don't wanna lose but if I choose love_  
_What will happen then?_  
_Staring down my two halves in the glass_  
_What then?_

Stiles sang, not without a measure of kindness or understanding in his voice.

_Go ahead and choose, go ahead and choose_  
_Go ahead and choose_

Dean felt it building up in his chest, but despite the feeling he had to continue, he nodded to Stiles to help him reach catharsis.

_All I have to give this world is me, that's it_  
_All I have to show this world is me, that's it_  
_I don't wanna lose but if I choose love_  
_What will happen then?_  
_Staring down my two halves in the glass_  
_What then?_

The stage lights dimmed, leaving Stiles and Dean staring at each other across the stage. They were distinctively less hostile towards each other, though there was still some wariness in their eyes as they regarded each other across the stage.

“I’m not going to apologize Dean. I can’t. You took someone from me. I took someone from you. It’s not right. But we can’t change it.”

Dean smirked and shook his head.

“Not this time we can’t. If we cross paths again though, I’ll give you your space. And if you need a hand…”

“…hell really will have frozen over.”

Dean nodded his head, in understanding.

“But if you need a hand then…”

“…yeah. You too.”

The Host got to their feet.

“Gentlemen. I believe it is time for you two to leave. Dean, if you’ll go first.”

Casting one last look at the younger man, Dean made his way through the door, finding himself in a field, ground crispy with snow, which was odd given that it was mid-June when he found himself in that strange place.

**Dean**

Looking across at the tree line, he had an overwhelming sense of deja vu. A younger Stiles running through the woods with a taller dark haired individual beside him. Looking down, he had the gun in his hand that had been there all those year before.

“What the…”

“Dean.”

The low gravelly voice behind him broke him from his reverie. Castiel, in all his (tempered) glory. Feeling himself smile, he holstered the gun.

“Did you find the werewolf you were looking for?”

Shaking his head as he heard Stiles and Derek behind him, hearing the growl, followed by a whoop of laughter. 

“Not this time Cas. Not this time.”

**Stiles**

Stiles watched as Dean disappeared just on the other side of the door. Feeling part of himself uncoiling itself, the weight on his shoulders lifting slightly. He knew he’d have to walk through the door, and go back to whenever the hell he came from. To a world full of darkness that he himself had brought down.

Stepping into the blaring sunlight, he heard the door close behind him. Turning just slightly, he wasn’t too surprised to see there was no building there. Smirking sadly to himself he turned and looked forward, but stopped dead in his tracks.

Derek stood there in the parking lot, looking every bit the snack that he was, leaning against his trademark Camaro, head thrown back in a deep belly laugh at the joke that Dean had just finished telling him, Castiel looking on with exasperated love in his eyes. Making eye contact with Stiles, the angel waved him over.

“I promise, I was not trying to encourage either of them.”

Stiles was too dumbfounded to make more than a token acknowledgement. Wincing as a duality of memories flooded his brain, he felt a little odd as he remembered what had happened before with Derek dying in his arms in a field, while at the same time, he had a distinct memory of Dean and Castiel approaching them, weapons holstered, and asking if they’d heard of a minor demon causing havoc near by.

He remembered, distinctly, summoning the Nogitsune back to himself, and stabbing Castiel with his own angel blade, while at the same time inviting them, as well as Sam, over for Sunday brunch on the exact same day.

“Hey. Stiles?”

“Yeah Dean?”

“Times have changed huh?”

Not missing the exchanged look of confusion between Derek and Castiel, he nodded.

“A little. Yeah.”

Smirking, Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek, just in time to hear a low growl come from all around them.

“Let’s get to work.”

Pulling out their weapons, they moved forward, together.

**Author's Note:**

> I live for Kudos and Comments. 
> 
> Be kind. First time borrowing the characters from Supernatural.


End file.
